Please, Kiss Me, Sir!

David, my fiancé and the man I loved, threw me out like trash seven days before the wedding. He chose his pregnant mistress, who was none other than her ex. "She's carrying my child, Rose. I have to take responsibility." Rejected and betrayed right in front of the triumphant, smiling homewrecker, I fled to a nightclub to drown my sorrows. However, I accidentally crashed into a man with a dangerously dominant aura. A mysterious figure with an intoxicating scent awakened a primal longing within me. One accidental kiss didn't just ignite sparks in my body. It awoke something that had never stirred before, not even with David. But that mysterious scent succeeded, making me want to submit to the heat and strength of his powerful body. "Alpha... can you kiss me again?"

Chapters

Chapter 4

I don't know how I ended up here. My mind is still stuck in the chaotic ballroom, the mess I left behind, but my body is already inside this luxurious, soundproof car with dark interiors.

A pure, powerful scent dominates the cabin, so strong it makes my head spin. Beside me, the man—Xavier—sits calmly, yet his dominant aura feels like it's pressing down on the air around me.

"You smell so sweet, Rose," the man murmurs softly.

He leans towards me. The distance between us is so slight I can feel the heat radiating from his powerful build. My heart is pounding wildly. It's not out of fear, but because of a sudden, wild instinct inside me demanding attention.

"Why... why did you take me away?" I whisper, my voice nearly vanishing as his molten gold eyes lock onto mine.

Xavier doesn't answer immediately. He reaches out, his long, warm fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sends an electric wave that makes me shiver.

"Because I don't like seeing what's mine standing among trash like your ex," his voice is low and husky, vibrating right down to my ribs.

"I am not yours," I protest weakly, even as my hand unconsciously grips his black shirt, pulling him closer because I can't bear the distance between us.

"Is that so?" Xavier lets out a soft chuckle, an intoxicatingly masculine sound. "Then why is your heart pounding like this when I touch you, Rose?"

He leans down, letting his nose brush against the sensitive skin of my neck. He inhales my scent deeply, as if I were the oxygen he needs to survive. His warm lips then move, placing soft kisses along my jawline to the corner of my mouth.

A primitive, chest-tightening passion suddenly explodes. Here I am, newly heartbroken, yet feeling an intense thirst for the touch of this stranger.

"Xavier..." I murmur unconsciously.

Hearing his name, he no longer holds back. He captures my lips in a deep, demanding kiss. This isn't a gentle kiss; it's the claim of an Alpha. His large hands creep to my waist, pulling my body until I'm seated on his lap.

I let out a soft moan as his tongue explores my mouth, entwining with mine in a hot, demanding dance. The intoxicating sweetness of his lips replaces the bitter taste of champagne in my mouth.

I place my hands at the nape of his neck, gently gripping his short hair and returning his kiss with equal intensity.

All my burdens melt away inside the car. The fire Xavier has ignited overshadows the wound David left. Our skin touching feels like lost pieces finally finding each other after being apart for so long.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to look at me with eyes darkened by desire. "I want you, Rose," he whispers right against my now-swollen lips.

I gaze into those gold eyes, feeling myself fall deeper. I don't know how to respond to his words. I am utterly enchanted by him.

Xavier gives a faint, possessive smile.

He leans down again, kissing my neck with small nips that make me arch my back and grip his sturdy shoulders.

A soft gasp escapes my lips as his sharp yet careful teeth deliver a pleasurable sting on the skin of my neck. My hands grip his shoulders more tightly, seeking an anchor amidst the storm of passion I've never felt before.

"Xavier... slow down," I whisper hoarsely, even as my body demands more.

Xavier pauses briefly, his face lifting from my neck. His hot breath fans against my face. His gold eyes now look darker, almost like the color of thick honey in the dim cabin light.

"I love your scent, Rose," he whispers before kissing my neck again.

Xavier's touch on my neck feels increasingly demanding. Each small nip and soft suction feels like he's mapping his territory on my body.

I moan, my hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer until my heaving chest presses directly against the rigid plane of his.

"Xavier..." I whisper, my voice breaking from the surging passion.

His large hands move at my waist. One hand slowly rises, slipping behind my silk dress, caressing the skin of my back with a burning touch.

Warmth spreads through my nerves, making my wolf instinct thrash, wanting to surrender completely to this man. Xavier moves, kissing my jawline before devouring my lips again with deeper, wilder intensity.

The air in the car feels increasingly thin and hot. I can feel his power, the overwhelmingly dominant Alpha aura, enveloping me until I feel dizzy. We are almost losing control. My hands begin to move restlessly on his shoulders, while he continues to press my body against the car seat, applying pressure that makes my entire body tremble.

Suddenly, a loud ringing tone shatters the passion-filled silence.

Drrrtt... Drrrtt...

The phone in my small bag vibrates intensely. Its sound feels thunderous in the confined space, as if dousing my entire body with ice water. I jerk, trying to catch my breath, which feels stifled.

"Ignore it," Xavier growls low against the curve of my neck. His breath is still ragged, reluctant to release his claim.

"I... I have to answer it," I say hoarsely, trying to push his shoulder slightly.

Xavier growls in annoyance, a sound of frustration at the interruption. He looks at me with eyes still darkened, full of unresolved desire.

I reach into my bag with trembling hands and look at the phone screen. Mom.

Thoughts of the chaos at David's party, the recording I replayed, and the fact that I'm sitting on a stranger's lap suddenly hit me hard. My awareness returns fully.

"I have to go, Xavier," I say, this time with a steadier voice.

I quickly move from his lap back to my seat, straightening my slightly disheveled dress.

"Rose, wait." Xavier grabs my arm. His grip isn't painful, but it's very firm. "You can't just leave like this after what happened earlier."

I look at him, trying to steady my breathing. "My mind is a mess. Too much has happened tonight. I can't do this right now."

Xavier stares at me sharply, as if weighing whether to let me go or take me away with him. Finally, he lets out a long sigh and slowly releases my arm.

"Alright," he murmurs, though there's a note of disappointment in his voice.

"Maybe we'll meet again," I say, my hand already on the car door handle. "But not tonight."

Xavier doesn't reply. Instead, he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out an elegant black card with embossed gold lettering. He extends it to me.

"Take this," he commands, leaving no room for argument. "Contact me soon."

I take the card and immediately get out of the car before my defenses crumble again. I don't look back as I walk away, but I can feel the gaze of his gold eyes watching me until I disappear into the darkness of the night.

I look at the card in my hand. Xavier Sterling.

"Sterling?"

Thud!

My heart seems to sink into my stomach. Xavier Sterling is the apex predator in the business world and the supreme leader of the Sterling clan. Xavier Sterling, the Alpha of all Alphas, wields immense power over this continent. I just kissed the most dangerous man in the werewolf world.

***

Continue to next part

I woke up with a smile on my face, the morning light filtering through our bedroom curtains. Today marked three years since I had become Mrs. Christina Hughes, and my heart fluttered with the same excitement I'd felt on our wedding day. Dante was still asleep beside me, his dark hair tousled against the pillow, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen. I wanted everything to be perfect for our anniversary. I prepared his favorite breakfast—blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and freshly brewed coffee. The dress he'd bought me for our first anniversary—a simple blue sundress that he said matched my eyes—hung in the bathroom where I'd placed it last night. As I whisked the pancake batter, my mind wandered to the small white stick hidden in my purse. I'd taken the test yesterday, hands trembling as two pink lines appeared.

Modern Romance

8.9

Contract Bride: Rising From The Shadows

8.9

I was hired to be the "cure" for the Stuart family’s reputation, a wife whose only job was to manage the emotional risks of Casper Stuart’s cold-blooded empire. My life was governed by spreadsheets and compliance reports, and my value was measured solely by my ability to remain a silent, perfect asset. On our second anniversary, Casper didn't come home for dinner; instead, a Page Six alert showed him with a Victoria's Secret model at Soho House, his hand possessively on her back. When he finally returned, he didn't offer an apology, but a clinical reminder of my "obligations." I soon discovered he had given my three-million-dollar anniversary bonus—a pink diamond necklace—to his mistress, while tossing me a cheap bracelet his assistant had picked out. When his mother offered me a two-hundred-million-dollar settlement to disappear, Casper tore the contract to shreds in front of me. He whispered that he had bought up every cent of my family’s medical and gambling debts, turning my marriage into a life sentence of indentured servitude. To prove his power, he kicked me out of his car in a rainstorm twenty miles from the city, leaving me to walk home barefoot while he drove off with my dog. "Tell her you want to stay," he had commanded in front of his mother, using my mother’s life as leverage to keep his "portfolio" intact. I stood in the mud, shivering as the rain washed away the mask of the supportive wife, realizing that to the Stuarts, I wasn't a human being—I was a line item that could be liquidated or crushed at will. But Casper forgot one thing: I am an actress, and I’ve finally landed the role of a lifetime. I’m done managing his risks; I’m about to become his greatest liability.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.7

Just like the evening breeze leaves no trace

9.7

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

Justice for the Humiliated

7.8

The crystal chandelier cast dancing shadows across Margaret Griffin's opulent dining room as fifty of the city's elite mingled beneath its light. I stood near the mahogany sideboard, watching Harrison hold court by the fireplace, his voice carrying that familiar tone of superiority that had grated against my nerves for ten years. "Cassandra chose this necktie for me tonight," Harrison announced, his fingers plucking at the silk fabric around his throat with theatrical disgust. "Can you believe it? Navy blue with silver stripes to my mother's birthday party." The laughter that rippled through the crowd felt like ice water in my veins. Margaret Griffin, resplendent in her emerald gown and diamond tiara, shook her head with practiced disappointment. "Oh, Harrison," she sighed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You really must start dressing yourself. Poor dear Cassandra simply doesn't understand these things." My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. The necktie was Hermès, worth more than most people's monthly salary, and it complemented his charcoal suit perfectly.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.5

Mistress's Costly Affair

8.5

The familiar scent of turpentine and oil paint should have comforted me as I pushed open the door to Adrian's studio. Instead, my stomach twisted into knots as the scene before me registered in my mind. I'd spent the morning preparing his favorite lunch—smoked salmon sandwiches with the crusts removed, just as he liked them—and tucked a pregnancy test into my pocket. After three years of trying, the faint second line had appeared this morning. I wanted to surprise him, to see his face light up with the news we'd waited so long to receive. But the woman draped across Adrian's chaise lounge wasn't me. "Adrian?" My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. He didn't startle. Didn't even pause the sweep of his brush across the canvas. The afternoon light streamed through the skylights, illuminating the scene with a clarity I wished I could escape.

Modern Mystery Romance

8.7

Rejected Luna's Ultimate Vengeance

8.7

The weekend arrived, and with it, the annual pack gathering—a grand event where the Blue Moon Pack showcased its strength and unity. As the Luna of the pack, I was expected to attend, though the tension between Julian, our Alpha, and me had been simmering for weeks. The gathering was held in the grand hall of our pack’s territory, a modern, sprawling building that blended seamlessly with the city around us. The air buzzed with the energy of werewolves mingling, their auras clashing and mingling in a dance of dominance and submission. Julian stood at the center of it all, his broad shoulders and imposing frame commanding attention. His dark eyes scanned the room, lingering on Aleyna Price, his Beta, who stood at his side like a shadow. Aleyna was young, ambitious, and utterly convinced of her own importance. She smirked when she caught my eye, her gaze filled with a challenge I had no intention of backing down from. The auction was the highlight of the evening, a tradition meant to raise funds for the pack’s warriors and healers. The painting up for bidding was a stunning piece, a depiction of a lone wolf howling at the moon, its symbolism impossible to ignore.

Modern Romance Werewolf

Please, Kiss Me, Sir!

Chapter 4

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